14 year old Spartan
by Jadomaster
Summary: This is a short story about Spartan109, Alex. After augmentation, Alex's body is having problems. He has trouble thinking, concentrating, fighting. If you havn't kept up on it, please just read the first chapter. CHAPTER 7 IS HERE! WOOT
1. Introduction

**Hello, all! This is another short story about Alex. It takes place a little after augmentation, when they are all 14. It is a little out of pure traditional Halo, but it does make sense. 14 year olds do get in fights, even if they are Spartans. I might make more, but it is kinda meant to be a oneshot. Also, I AM working on my other two stories, Sangheili Ascension and Spartan-109, but I am really busy right now. Please check 'em out, and leave a review or two. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything concerned with Halo, and am not doing anything to steal ideas and blah blah blah. **

**Claimer: Spartan-109, Alex, is all MINE! MUAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAA! Well, here ya go. **

**1236 hours, June 5, 2525 (Military Calendar)\**

**Epsilon Eridani system, UNSC Training Center**

**Facility B-184, planet Reach. **

Spartan-109, Alex, slapped a chunk of C-4 onto the building which he was hunkered next to. Bullets zipped overhead, thudding into the concrete above, and sending fragments of dust and debris flying into his face. He was nervous.

Spartan-104, Fred, fired off a few shots from his MA2-B and yelled at him to hurry up. Alex couldn't hear him over the rattle of gunfire and explosions. It was dark, but frequent flashes of light from bombs illuminated surroundings enough for Alex to see what he was trying to do without his headlight. He fumbled with the mess of wires and switches. He dropped them, picked them back up. A round pinged a meter to his right.

Fred hit him in the shoulder. "GET GOING!" He yelled as mortar fire erupted near them. Alex swallowed, and began again.

He was the best demolitions man his team had. Or he used to be. Alex was 14. Before the augmentation, he was the best. He could do any job, any time. Rig any explosion, anywhere. He used to be able to blow away stuff to the precision of a foot. But no more. The augmentation had left him... scattered. His body had come out fine, for the most part. Aside from uncontrollable spasms of violent twitching, that is.

As the twitching began to interfere with his normal functions, Alex's self-doubt began to grow. It was no longer just a physical problem. He was now unreliable, self-conscious, and unsure. It didn't help the situation at all.

They were in the middle of a jungle on some island, without air or ground support, in a large compound sort of like a prison camp. They were crouched next to the corner of a large building which happened to be where the enemies stored their provisions of food and ammo. It was pitch black, cold, and very, very dangerous.

Spartan-043, Will, dropped out of nowhere and next to them. Alex connected the charge.

"Ready!" he said, rolling up and around to join his comrades by the corner of the facility.

He knew it was just training, but training was yet another term used by the military to shield the reality. Like the word interrogation. This, in reality, meant torture. Training or not, he would be just as dead if he got slotted.

"GO!" Fred yelled, and they sprinted away from the building. They fired nonstop at the overwhelming number of targets, who were firing nonstop at them. Rounds chewed up the dirt floor around them. Alex saw everything in slow motion as he ran. It was like running a movie frame by frame. It gave him an edge. John's trainer had said it was just his heightened awareness from augmentation combined with adrenaline, combined with Alex's gift for it.

They dove down a foxhole, and Alex pressed the detonator. Everything became silent, and then a wave of heat and fire erupted towards them. Sound came, and a roar tore through the night. He tumbled down the stairs, cursing, as chunks of twisted metal and concrete reined down, crushing earth and flesh.

They got out of there. Fast. Alex flew forward as a massive block of building crashed behind them, cratering the earth. He landed hard on his head, it snapped downwards onto his chest, but he twisted onto his shoulder before he broke his neck. They got up, and kept going, fleeing into the simulated night.

**THREE HOURS LATER**

Alex sat apart from the other Spartans, hanging back. He watched the others talk, laugh, play cards. They were all in a corner of the barracks at 3:30 AM enjoying the privacy and chance to get away from the trainers. A chance to say what they could not on the field.

He snuck a glance at Linda, who was also hanging back from the light of the single bare bulb. She was leaning back in a chair in the dark, arms folded across her chest. He could see her eyes glinting in the dark as their gazes met. He blushed, and looked down at his feet.

He knew he had feelings for her, but he always tried to ignore them. He wondered if she felt for him. He doubted it. They did have something in common, though. He and Linda could sit back, watch the others, and think the same thing. They looked at the others and wished they could be like them. That the mental scars of augmentation would go away. It was comforting to know someone else had your problems.

Alex looked up at Linda again. She met his gaze again. He wondered how she knew when he was looking at her. She gave him a challenging look. Buzz off, it said. So he went to polishing his MA2-B.

Zoning out of reality for awhile could help a lot. It saved him from a lot of grief. He could shut off his feelings, shut everything down and just sit. He knew Linda did it also. He knew that vacant stare of hers. He knew she saw it in him. That gave him comfort too.

So he did just that. He shut out the voices, the light, the pain, and zoned out.

He was jerked back into reality by Linda's voice. Alex blinked and looked around, disoriented, and then looked to her. She was sitting in the same place, but Fred was now behind her. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, brushing his lips on her cheek. She elbowed him.

"Cut it" he heard her growl. He smiled. Nobody noticed what was happening, they were so engrossed in discussion and word games. He kept listening to Fred, and tried to hear what he was saying.

"and then there's Alex." He heard Fred say to her. Alex couldn't make out the rest, as it was jumbled up in the others voices. But he didn't have to wait long. "What about Alex?" an unintelligible voice asked.

Fred called back. "He is not the type of person our squad can use anymore. He is not made for action. He can do the slow methodical stuff while we do the more swift termination."

Alex leaned back in his chair, pretending to be at ease. He was angry. It grew quieter, as more Spartans paused to listen. Fred had been chaffing him the whole week, and he wouldn't leave Linda alone. He was sick of it.

"Yeah, you kill everyone in sight and some of us think first." It was instantly silent. No-one moved, no-one spoke, except for Fred.

"And we have the complete clean mission record." Fred leered back.

"Yeah, because we clean all of your messes up. And get away from Linda. Now." Fred chuckled and turned to look at Alex with a mocking grin.

"You can't do anything else. You can't even shoot straight anymore."

Alex yanked Fred forward, and slammed his face into the side of his forearm with a crack. Fred took it with a grunt and tackled him, bodychecking him hard against the wall. Alex slammed his palm into Fred's rib cage, rocking him backwards, and driving the air out of his lungs. He launched a front kick at him, but Fred was now inside the arc of his foot, and past his defenses. He punched Alex, who couched flecks of blood up, but grabbed his vest and launched him into the table anyway. Fred landed hard on top of the table and chairs, wrecking them. He rammed both fists upwards as Alex crashed on top of him. Alex gagged. He needed to breathe, but he couldn't. He wrenched his arm around Fred's neck, and squeezed hard. Fred was hammering his sides the whole time, but he couldn't feel the pain anymore. He could only see his dead brothers broken body tumble from the augmentation tube. Blind rage forced him on, as he throttled Fred, tightening his hold like a vice.

Alex couldn't see anything anymore, just red. His strength failed and he hung limp as someone ripped him off of Fred. He was thrown onto the rough concrete floor and pinned there. The cool of his cheek against the floor brought Alex back. And he regretted being able to feel again as his face and sides pulsed with a dull hurt. Blood pooled around his face, and he guessed from the pain that he had a broken nose and a few missing teeth.

The Spartan took a few deep breaths (as best he could with the knee of some Spartan grinding into his back) and sucked up the pain.

"I'm good. Get off." The other Spartan got off. Alex pulled himself to his knees, and spit blood. He wiped his nose with his arm; it came away with dark red smears. He gingerly felt his nose, and decided that yes, it was very broken. He got to his feet, swayed a minute, and turned around.

"Don't do that again." Linda growled. He was taken aback at her ferocity. "But thanks anyway." She added, smiling slightly. She looked him up and down, and tossed him a can regeneration foam. Alex caught it while stepping around her to look down at Fred, who was sitting on the floor, wheezing.

"You all think just because you didn't come through augmentation with any scars that you're so cool. You think you're better than us. You have no idea what the word loss _means_." Alex laughed, bitterly. "Idiots." He walked off.

EDITED FOR ERRORS ON June 27, 2006.


	2. Bitter Recovery

**1416 hours, June 22, 2525 (Military Calendar)\**

**Epsilon Eridani system, UNSC Training Center**

**Demolition strip, planet Reach. **

Alex tensed, crouching in the dirt. Sweat trickled down his damp forehead as the 95 degree weather took its toll. The TDT, or Timed Demolition Track, was not made with shade in mind. Alex nervously checked his charge, wires, and thermal plastoid explosive, and rehearsed the run in his mind.

As soon as the light on the pole beside him turned green, he would run down the length of the track. As soon as he reached the target at the end, he would plant his explosives on a section marked by red spray-paint. (which he had to find) The explosives would detonate within five seconds. He had to estimate the amount of explosive correctly or he would be toast. Each time the target was something new. Pieces of discarded battleships or debris were hauled in, and used for training. After the detonation, he would run back to the pole and hit the BRB, or Big Red Button. Alex studied the target. It appeared to be a ripped off chunk of hallway from some ship. The blast doors were still in place, and he guessed that would be his target.

The light dinged, and turned green. Alex exploded from the starting line, Kelly following him close behind. Even though Alex was going his top speed, she easily kept up with him. He gave her a quick wave as the wind whipped past, and concentrated on pounding his legs up and down as fast as he could. A few Spartans watching from the side lines cheered. By the time he neared the target, he was almost horizontal.

Alex hurriedly skid to a stop beside the door, boots grating the dirt. He whipped around while gauging the size and strength of the door. The Spartan slapped a lump of TPA at the center, and a marble sized lump at the top.

Kelly watched him (from a good 10 meters away) furiously insert wires, connectors, and finally the activator. It beeped, and flashed red. Alex scrambled to the side, grabbed a handhold near the top of the shaft, and flipped up on top of it. He crouched down low, bracing himself. Kelly backed up another two meters, and wondered if Alex was just insane or if he really, really trusted his own judgment.

It was silent for 1.7 seconds as they all watched apprehensively, and then, with an anticlimactic pop-BANG, the metal door blasted inwards. Cool, Kelly thought. Alex even got it to go the direction he wanted. She cheered, and ran with him back to the pole. He slammed into it, slapping the BRB down ferociously. Kelly slapped him on the back and congratulated him on his best run he had ever done which beat his previous one, making a new record.

**1801 hours, September 16, 2525 (Military Calendar)\**

**Epsilon Eridani system, UNSC Training Center**

**Mess Hall, planet Reach. **

THREE MONTHS LATER

Alex stuffed down what the UNSC called a meal as fast as he could. It would be their last good meal for a long while. They were leaving on yet another 'training' mission. Hah. Training indeed. The other team would, Alex was certain, be using live rounds again.

He was better now... If only mentally. He could control his actions and thoughts better so he didn't panic, which helped him channel his concentration into what he was doing. The shaking, however, still remained. And lately it had been getting more and more painful, so much so that Alex was occasionally left gasping for breath on the floor.

The Spartan pushed the thoughts out of his mind for now, and concentrated on running down the lengthy set of halls and corridors towards the hanger where a Pelican was docked. The dull grey panels lit up with red flashes of light. Other Spartans tumbled out the doors while hurriedly slipping on combat armor and boots.

Linda burst out her room to his right, almost running into him. Alex jumped to the side, nimbly ducking in and out of the swarm of bodies. He waved to her as she worked furiously to connect the knee-joint of her ODST armor. She grimaced at him and, with a SNAP, popped the joint in and locked it. She stood up again, shoved her helmet onto her head, and turned around.

"Lock it." She said gruffly. Alex obliged, reaching to the helmet's back. It was split open an inch to allow the wearer to barely get their head in, and then, when locked and sealed, it sucked down to a snug fit. He hooked a panel from one side around a bar from the other, and then pushed the end of the panel down, forcing them together. "Thanks." Linda motioned for him to turn around, and she locked his. They nodded to each other, and started running again.

Five minutes later:

Mendez paced back and forth in front of them, a permanent scowl pasted onto his face. He was yelling at them despite the absolute silence, briefing them on what their mission would be. The Spartans would split up into two different groups, and dropped off into the jungle for a period of five days. After flying the pelican in the background to the checkpoint, the Spartans would receive their weapons and further instructions. That was all.

Alex didn't like the idea of splitting the team into groups, but he supposed it was helpful because they were fighting against an extremely skilled enemy. Each other.

"Move out!" barked Mendez. They snapped to attention, boots clicking together in unison, and saluted. Mendez returned the salute and walked crisply off. The group relaxed and swiftly walked to the pelican.

Vinh called pilot, and Alex was glad she had. She was an extremely good pilot, master of many different vehicles. It was, he guessed, her little skill. They all had their own strengths that revealed themselves in different ways.

Alex jumped nimbly into the back. He signaled Spartan-093, Grace, to sweep the exterior for any bugs, ridiculous as it sounded. You never knew what Mendez would do; it paid to be careful.

Spartan-117, John, yelled at them to stuff into the minimal amount of space available as fast as they could. Light would be fading when they arrived at the checkpoint. Alex worked his way up to the front, where he stood to the right of Vinh. John was on her left.

Grace popped back in, and tossed three bugs to him. She smiled, and he gave her a thumbs up. Alex discretely stashed them in an armored pocket in his armor. They might be useful later.

Fred was coming up to Alex, who sensed his approach, and readied himself for trouble. Fred still hadn't forgotten what happened three months earlier. Alex chuckled to himself and had to admit that he didn't blame him.

The other Spartan jostled Alex in the back, and whispered in his ear,

"See ya on the field." John gave Fred a warning glance, who ignored it. Alex chuckled.

"Frickin' right you will." He snarled back. Vinh broke the wall of hate with a few words.

"Brace yourselves!" She called back. The back of the pelican slowly closed shut as Vinh fired up the engines. Alex grinned. She loved this stuff. Vinh whooped, and with a roar, they blasted away at full burn from the launch pad.


	3. You Try To Make Me Fade

**Hey all. This is a relatively short chapter... I am just introducing the fight in this one, along with the rules and such. I corrected the date errors along with any others I could find, if you see more please say so in a _review._ Yes, the R word. Review please! And if you don't may every word that begins with R haunt you and make you feel guilty for the rest of your life. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Bungie, Halo, Halo 2 or anything like that. It is all the property of Bungie studios. I do own Spartan-109 though. Enjoy. **

**0524 hours, September 17, 2525 (Military Calendar)\**

**Epsilon Eridani system, Maprae Training Field **

**Blue Base, planet Reach. **

Alex stripped his rifle down and cleaned it, lubricating hinges, wiping down tubes. He got the special ops/surveillance equipment, which included night-vision goggles, a boosted motion-detector, and special stealth armor add-ons. But most significant of all was the rifle. It was custom made for special assault and whatever else you could do. The rifle was short, bulky, and deadly with night-vision, red-dot scope, flash suppressor and silencer, laser targeting (optional), short range sniping capability, semi or full automatic settings, and was extremely modifiable. It could fire many different kinds of rounds with simple part exchanges. A forty round banana clip helped, too. Right now, modified Narq darts were loaded. The darts would hurt. Allot. But they wouldn't kill, merely paralyze for a period of 3 hours. If you were hit, the other team could find you and take you back to their HQ as a hostage, injecting you with syringes of tranquilizer to keep you asleep for the trip. Or, if they left you, you would have to wait until you could move again and then resume playing. The times you 'died' was recorded, as well as the person who did it. Your 'kills' were also recorded, as well as the one you tagged.

The Spartan reassembled the SAS Battlerifle quickly. It was almost time for the battle to begin. Quakes or adrenaline ran through his body, making him shiver with anticipation. Alex chided himself, and concentrated on calming down. He slowed his breathing, mentally preparing for the fight. He let his brain switch over to a side of himself rarely seen. His mind receded to the dark corners and depths of his mind where he rarely tread, bringing a dark side of him up from the depths of his consciousness. He settled into a state of mind that made him the feral warrior that he was. He resigned himself to thinking that he was going to be totally annihilated, which brought up a dangerous survival instinct in him. It gave him another edge to his already razor-sharp state.

Spartan-109 inhaled deeply, and opened his eyes again. He saw the world now with a heightened sense of dark awareness. He was one with his armor, his weapon, his surroundings. He was the dangerous, predatory animal capable of hunting you for eternity.

Spartan-117, John, stepped into the shady dirt room, his weapon gripped firmly in both hands. Alex could feel the determination radiating form him, as well as the sweat gathering on his face. He could feel him squeeze the rifle grip for reassurance; feel him narrow his eyes in anticipation. He nodded to them all. The fifteen Spartans grouped in the large dusty chamber saluted him.

"Has everyone registered with the TBD?" he questioned absentmindedly as he turned on the rusty holopad. The Spartans all 'yes sir'ed. The Tactical Biosign Display flickered, and then sprang to life over the pad, displaying the bio-readings of all 15 Spartans. If someone got tagged the display, which was uploaded into the helmets, it would read so. "Good." John tapped his right foot restlessly, and waited for 0500, the starting time, to come.

At 0450, the holopad display changed, now a 3D image of trainer Darkholme replaced the TBD. The Spartans stiffened, saluted, and waited. Darkholme returned the salute, and addressed them all.

"Greetings, Spartans. You are about to begin a new phase of your training, what we refer to as 'Friendly Fire Training'. You are being, as you know, split up into two groups to combat each other over a period of about five days. The guns you have been given are loaded with Narq darts, and no other ammo is allowed to be used. The darts will paralyze you for 3 hours if you are 'tagged'. If you tag someone, you may leave him, and he will resume playing when he is mobile again. Your weapon has a 'smartchip' in it that will not fire on 'tagged' enemies. An overdose of the drug may cause lasting effects. If you chose not to leave them, your options are to inject them with a tranquilizer and take them back to your base, or inject them and try to keep him with yourself. Keep these rules in mind, but do not let them hinder you too much. Judge as best you can, but act as if you are in a real combat situation. The battlefield is 5 miles long, and 1 and 1/2 wide. The terrain is mostly forest/prairie.

Alex tuned out. He knew the rest. When it was finally time to get in position, seven minutes had already passed. Grace tapped him quickly on the shoulder as she rushed towards the doorjamb. Alex nimbly jumped up, grabbed his weapon, and braced himself against Grace's back while she checked the immediate are through the door. Alex nudged her arm with an elbow, signaling that he was ready.

Spartan-117 whispered as he crouched near the base of the doorjamb.

"Spartan-109 and Spartan-093, you take the east borderline." The starting buzzer sounded, and half of the warriors burst in coordinated patterns from the Red Base. John shouted now. "If you spot Linda, do whatever it takes to take her out." Alex circled around Grace now, and they paused, waiting to hear the rest of John's words. "Take her hostage if possible. Other priority targets will be uploaded to you as the mission progresses. Move out."


	4. Yet I Stand Again, Victorious

Hey my few and far between fans! Thanks for reading my story, and thanks to all of the people who took the time to leave a review. I appreciate it a lot!

Spartan Elessar: I am glad you liked it! I (after writing this story) personally don't like Fred anymore either!

Mawata and Sasame 4ever: Thanks! I am glad you liked it! I appreciate your support!

Dachande663: Here ya go, mate! ;)

Halosobsessed1010: More for you, and you, and you, and you! So glad you liked it! (Combined words are just words I make up)

Mr. 125: I didn't think they would get along very well in teen years, either! ;)

1XerO1: Thanks for pointing that out. I (When writing it at first) couldn't remember the date, so I just made one up promising myself I would look it up later. I forgot, as usual. Sorry if I am taking too long on this fighting thing... This was meant to be a short story after all, but oh well. I am going to wrap it up soon. BUT I need your help! DO you think that there should be more aggression between Fred and Alex? If so, just leave a quick review saying that they should fight more. (Sorry this might look weird... Fanfiction is having trouble uploading word docs. 

0124 hours, September 20, 2525 (Military Calendar\  
Epsilon Eridani system, Maprae Training Field Upper-Left Quadrant, planet Reach.

THREE DAYS LATER

Spartan-109 fumbled numbly with the zipper on his hydration pack. His cold fingers slowly and silently unzipped the back pocket. Everything was quiet for the moment. Five by one and a half miles was a lot of ground when it needed to be. Alex signaled Grace to cover point while he rooted for his last protein bar.

Alex crouched in the cold, awkwardly tearing open the plastic wrapper. He leaned his back against one of the numerous trees that were providing cover for the moment, and searched the damp, misty terrain for any sign of Linda. She could be hiding anywhere in the marshy forest.

His rifle ammo counter read 45 rounds in the clip. It was covered in grime and the alarming fungus that grew everywhere. Alex hadn't found time yet to clean it or any of his other equipment yet, and it was beginning to show. His boots were caked with mud, and soaked through with water. His armor was stiff with dried mud and grass. His body was getting colder and colder with the dropping temperature and constant moisture. Food was scarce, as well as rest.

And he still hadn't found Fred.

Alex fidgeted. He stood up slowly from his prone position. The distinct THACK-THACK-THACK if darts smacking into trees erupted to the west. He could hear more join in far off as a large battle began. He was about to signal to move forward, when something on his motion tracker flickered. He jerked in that direction, but the red blip disappeared immediately.

Grace looked towards him, alerted. She shrugged her shoulders slightly, signaling no further contact. Alex jerked his head to the northeast as he switched his weapon to full auto. He pointed to Grace, and made a line in the air with his hand laid flat and low. He then pointed to himself, and made a quick arcing motion with his fist.

Grace nodded. She understood. Alex counted off with his fingers.

One. Two.  
Three.

The Spartan dodged forward. He swiftly arced in a jagged circle towards the contact, weapon trained ahead, dashing through thick tangles of dead branches covered in moss. His target rustled in the woods ahead, and opened up on him. Short, precise bursts slashed angrily through the cold air towards him. Alex jerkily leapt forward and down, dodging through the foliage, getting closer.

Grace let off a shot into Spartan-221 from behind just as Alex tackled him. Daniel crashed to the ground with Alex's shoulder rammed against his chest. He coughed as the air was forced out of him, and then went limp, paralyzed and asleep.

Alex flipped to his feet as a dart suddenly came from nowhere and ricocheted off his helmet.

Linda. 

"New contact!" The Spartan yelled as he dove behind the safety of a tree, knowing he wouldn't have too many chances like that one. "Spartan-058 at nine o'clock!" He peeked warily around the branch. A dart tore the bark away a centimeter from his neck. He peeked out again, and listened for the sound of the gun. He heard it after another dart whistled past his arm.

Alex knew she must be close if he could actually hear the rifle. He dove diagonally to another tree. Two shots tore through his pants leg, barely missing. And that was when he realized that Linda was merely playing with him. He would be gone right now if she wished it.

He laughed out loud.

The laugh caught the attention of Spartan-008, who happened to be crouching twenty meters away. Alex swore as Li turned towards him. He ran back towards Grace. Linda peppered the ground to his left with darts, keeping him in a tight boundary as she waited for Li to finish the job. Spartan-109 abruptly tripped over a form on the ground, and spin to the ground. He whipped his head back to look, and found Spartan-093 unconscious, one of Linda's darts protruding from the back of her neck. He roughly hauled her body up, and dove down into the foxhole they had made. Alex felt her neck for a pulse. It was steady and strong. Good.

Li was getting closer. Alex didn't relish the thought of getting hit with darts again after the painful experiences he had, but it was unavoidable. -Might as well try to take out Li- Alex thought resignedly.

And so he jumped out of the foxhole, firing four rounds towards Spartan-008. But they were waiting for him. Before any of his shots got close, his chest was pumped with three darts.

Alex rocked backwards, thrown off by the impact. He fell to his knees. The Spartan glowered at Li, and as the world slowly began to slip away, emptied his last five rounds towards the other spartan's general direction. At the same moment, four darts dug viciously into his left side. Spartan-104, Fred, stepped from the shadow of a massive tree with his rifle raised. Alex twisted as he fell for what seemed like an eternity, catching a glimpse of Fred's boot as it flew up to meet his face.

Darkness. 0534 hours, September 20, 2525 (Military Calendar\  
Epsilon Eridani system, Maprae Training Field Upper-Left Quadrant, planet Reach.

Spartan-109 groaned and stirred. The pang of cold mud as he rolled into it woke him up. He coughed and pushed himself up to a squat, wiping mud off his chest plate. The Spartan experimentally clenched his jaw a few times, making sure it was alright. The armor was crunched in where Fred kicked him.

He glanced down in the foxhole to make sure Grace was alright. She was still sleeping fitfully despite her awkward, crumpled up position. Alex grabbed his rifle before jumping down next to her. He reloaded the weapon, and made sure everything was working properly. Next, he gently propped Grace up against the dirt wall so she was no longer cutting off the circulation of her arm and legs.

What to do now? Alex thought as he looked around, noting the new rain as it came down in large sheets. Grace had always had trouble with sickness or medicinal drugs. They had a bad effect on her, and judging from past hits Alex knew that she would be asleep for about five hours. He decided begrudgingly to leave her and keep fighting.

The Spartan lifted himself out of the foxhole and got to his knees just as a gauntleted fist slammed into the side of his helmet, crushing a weak spot that was next to his temple. Alex's flew three meters backwards until he smashed into a dead tree. He growled in pain and desperation as he fell to the ground, and threw himself over as a Spartan dove to the ground where he had been before. He whirled around, grabbing the left wrist of the Spartan as they threw another lightning-fast punch. He twisted it sharply, drawing a small gasp of pain. At the same moment, he pulled the arm down, ducked under it, and drew it across the other Spartan's chest in an attempt to hold them.

"Hello again, Linda." Alex rasped as she spun him around to the left while bracing her foot against his legs. Spartan-109 fell, hoping for a break, but Linda was already down on her back beside him. She slipped her arm around his neck, and jerked his head around, down, and into the mud. Alex braced against the ground with his one free hand and pushed upwards, trying to get a breath of air, but Linda was pinning him under. He suddenly rammed his elbow into the chest plate of her armor, knocking her backwards. At the same time he whipped his foot forward and into the back of her legs.

He jumped up, unlocking and ripping off his beaten helmet. Alex threw it at Linda's head as he gulped down the moist air. She easily dodged it. Spartan-109 stood panting in the clearing, rain dripping off his cracked and beaten armor. Spartan-058 stepped a few blind paces backward, fighting exhaustion.

"Hello Alex." She panted out. "You wouldn't happen to have any spare ammo would ya? I'm out." Linda chuckled as she wiped mud off her visor. Alex glanced down at his weapon laying fifteen meters away, and began circling his friend wearily.

"Sorry, I've just got enough for me. I haven't been at base for three days." He replied hoarsely. Linda circled also, looking him up and down.

"Too bad. Getting tired?" she asked as she quirked her head to one side.

Alex stopped in a defensive fighting stance, waiting. "Nope." He grimaced. "You?"

Linda took out what looked like brass knuckles and put them on her right hand. The tips were coated with paralyzing drug. If any of the four tiny spikes punctured his skin, Alex would go slack for about two minutes as the drug shut down a few muscles here and there.

"Nope." She said with a sigh, and dove towards him. 


	5. Job Well Done

**0539 hours, September 20, 2525 (Military Calendar)\**

**Epsilon Eridani system, Maprae Training Field **

**Upper-Left Quadrant, planet Reach**

Alex blocked her punch to the outside, and spun around it past her guard. He had his back to her while holding her right arm with his left, executing a shot to the solar plexus with his right elbow when she rammed her left fist into his ribcage. He dropped down, coughing. He reverse side-snap kicked above her right knee from the ground, knocking her forwards when she was just about to scrape the spikes down his leg.

Then in one swift move, he turned and launched his right fist into Linda's left shoulder joint as she fell. Alex twisted around with his momentum and slammed his right palm into her faceplate. Linda's head snapped back as the faceplate shattered.

Spartan-109 caught her limp body before it dropped, and softly lowered it to the ground. He propped her against a tree, ripping her ruined helmet off. Blood dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin. Alex gently wiped it away with his gloved fingers.

Knowing she wouldn't be out for long, the Spartan injected her with a tranquilizer to keep her quiet. He opened the insulated and armored pocket on his boot, taking out one of the three listening bugs. He unlocked one side of her abdomen armor above the shoulder, and placed the tiny bug in the small hollow space behind the locking bar, under where the locking panel would rest after it hooked onto the bar and was pushed down. The panel was just tall enough to not crush the delicate listening device. Good.

He had hacked into the device before, and reset the receiving band to the same one that his helmet used. That way, he could hear everything she could. It probably wouldn't do much, but it might give him some clues as to what the rest of their team was doing. He could patch it through to anyone else of his team also.

The Spartan dragged Linda over and sat her up against the tree. He cleared away signs of their scuffle, and backed away into the foxhole again as he decided to wait for Grace to wake up. Alex hid for half of an hour before she finally stirred.

"Grace," he whispered, "wake up." She mumbled incoherently for a few seconds before finally waking up. Groggy from sleep, she fumbled with her weapon, making sure it worked, and chambered a round.

"Ready to go." Grace replied with a yawn. They climbed carefully out. Alex trotted over to Linda's sleeping form and hoisted her up onto his shoulder. Grace whispered through the com. "Nice. You got her, eh?" Alex nodded, but indicated the crushed side of his helmet and his broken jaw piece. Grace drew a smile across her visor, which Alex returned. He then pointed to Red Base, and they set off. They were overdue for defense duty.

**2356 hours, September 20, 2525 (Military Calendar)\**

**Epsilon Eridani system, UNSC Training Center **

**Docking Bay 3-C, planet Reach**

The sore Spartans plodded from the Pelican, weary from the long battle. It was 11:00 P.M. and totally dark out on the launch pad, save for a lighted corner where Mendez waited impatiently. The wind picked up, whipping hair around gently as they lined up in front of the trainer, who was scowling again.

Mendez got up from the chair he was sitting in, and slowly walked through the ranks. Everyone stood ramrod straight, trying not to look conspicuous. He nodded to Spartan-117, John, and stopped besides Alex. The instructor held out his opened hand, not saying a word. Alex saluted, and dropped three bugs into Mendez's palm.

Mendez stalked to the front of the line, and turned swiftly to face them. They saluted, and he returned it.

"At ease." He growled, "Go shower, and then you get one day of R and R. Dismissed." The trainer marched off.

"Fallout." John ordered. Alex swept his fingers through his hair, and inhaled the night air. He glanced over to Fred who was walking haughtily to the entryway. He never had gotten a chance to meet the other Spartan again... Not after Mendez's team had come.

They had surprised the Spartans at 1330 the day he had captured Linda, coming in from the west and taking out two of Blue team and one of Red team in the first five or so minutes. The renegade team had swept quickly through the field, taking down the uncoordinated resistance without losing many men. Once they realized what was going on, though, the remaining trainees got their act together.

Red and Blue team merged COM systems and met at Blue base. After the Spartans joined forces, they gradually beat the other much larger team to a standstill over the remaining two days. Then, on the night of the fifth day, a Pelican swooped down into the middle of the field and docked there. Everyone quickly realized that whoever secured it first was getting the ride home. Much to the chagrin of all of the trainers except Mendez, the Spartans got it, and Vinh flew them back to HQ. The chief trainer acted like he was angry, but everyone knew he was proud by the smile on his face as he walked away.

_Job well done _Alex thought as he trudged in after Grace.


	6. Like Spartans Do

**2401 hours, September 23, 2525 (Military Calendar)\**

**Epsilon Eridani system, UNSC Training Center **

**Docking Bay 3-C, planet Reach**

Alex marched hurriedly into the warm facility, yearning for a real meal. _Well_, he chuckled, _as real as it gets with the UNSC. _The team marched in unison through the grey blast doors and into the hutch of the familiar grey hall. Low lights gave the dull grey overtone a warm feel. The blast doors thunked together again behind the column, which collapsed as soon as they were sealed.

"Shower time!" yelled a Spartan. A murmur of happy assent rose, and the content group trotted down the hall, eager for the first bath in five days. Alex trotted alongside Grace, unlocking armor pieces as he ran towards the large, white tiled room. They ragtag group turned left from the dead end, down two rooms, and then to the right down another long hall. Spartan-082 paused at the door to the showers as the others jostled behind him, and then yanked it open.

Fifty showerheads lined three walls of the room, with temperature nozzles below them. Drains congregated at the middle of the slightly slanted floor so the water would slide down into them. Brilliant white tiles reflected the bright lights from the low ceiling, creating a white glare. And right now, the room was heaven.

Alex trotted over to the nearest showerhead. He twisted the water to the highest temperature, pulled the nozzle towards himself, and slowly relaxed as steaming hot water rained down.

**2436 hours, September 23, 2525 (Military Calendar)\**

**Epsilon Eridani system, UNSC Training Center **

**Mess Hall, planet Reach**

Spartan-109 sat, hunched in a deserted corner of the Spartan II barracks. He had, despite having not gotten a hot shower for five days, kept his shower to fifteen minutes long. After that he had prepared and scarfed down an MRE in 15. Now he and the rest of the special ops trainees were gathered again in the Spartan II barracks.

Alex sat, as usual, in the dark, alone. He liked being able to look on over everyone sometimes. But his heart ached to be included. To be one with them. But what would that bring? The chaos and turmoil of what pitiful shreds of real relationships that existed in the group could cause too much pain. But still...

Alex shook his head. Masking his feelings behind a frown, he proceeded his... overseeing of the daily life and development of his batch of Spartans. He had developed an outsider view of the group: a result of seclusion.

Linda was inside the dim ring of light, sitting back in an old folding chair around a dusty, brown felt-topped table. The other Spartans were playing yet another card game. John was winning. He was the luckiest. The group laughed as Fred, in play, stole John's cards and yelled "TEN!" slamming them down on the rickety table. Linda laughed along with the rest, eyes sparkling and cheeks glowing in the soft light.

She caught his eyes, as always, and smiled. Her eyes flicked back to the group, the _family_, and her smile fell into a slight frown. Her eyes dropped to her feet, and she absentmindedly pulled her hair behind one ear with a dainty forefinger. Linda's eyes looked back into his for a second.

_Come on._ They beckoned.

Then she looked away.

The slightly older Spartan frowned, and gazed at the MA2-B in his hands. He had been cleaning it again. Just like before. Alex looked up at Linda and the group again, his mind spinning.

Her eyes had also held another whisper. _I won't wait for you. _

Alex pushed himself up from his 'movie director' style chair. He dropped the Ma2-B to the ground; his resolve hardening. He walked slowly towards the other Spartans, fists clenched. A hush fell as he shouldered inside the compact group. He stood there for a moment, flicking his glance between his friends. John scowled, his brow creasing as if to say -_don't do anything stupid_. Linda bit her lower lip and looked down at the floor. Fred sat, jaw clenched, tensely waiting for the next move. Alex spoke.

"As you might be able to tell," he began slowly. "We have been pushed extra hard lately." Twenty-something anxious Spartans stared back at him, faces illuminated. No one spoke. "All of our training, all of our effort is coming to a head. I think that we only have a few more months before it. Before... we need to be ready." He looked each of those present in the eye. A few swallowed and looked away, either to their hands or to other Spartans. Linda looked straight up at Alex. "I realize..." Alex stalled, mulling over his words. "That some of us have allowed personal feelings to get in the way of our preparation, which hinders everything. But when we allow personal feelings get in the way of _the job_, we are _dead_." Alex sighed as he held out his hand to Fred. "If we don't give up this quarrel, we are as good as dead. We need to be ready to do our job. And do it like Spartans."

No one moved except John and Linda as they shifted slightly, getting ready to step between Spartan-109 and 104 when they erupted in a fight. A tense silence hung in the air. Fred's expression was unreadable, his face impassive. He slowly stood up, leaned across the table, and took Alex's hand. And shook it.


	7. Suspicion And Such Sweet Stuff

**1556 hours, July 7, 2601 (Military Calendar)\**

**Sole system, Orbiting Sangheili refugee and military backworld**

**Private office of Jerrod B. Johnson., UNSB Mobil Command Center**

"-and after the Covenant were officially engaged by the Spartans the animosity seemed to be forgotten. Everything went normally after that. Well, as normally as it could have under the circumstances, sir."

"I see."

"But sir... about his suicide. Something wasn't right. Considering the past and record of ONI section III, I think we have cause for alarm-"

"Enough, Spartan."

Spartan-109 shut his mouth, and stared straight ahead. Despite being 90 years old, he stood at attention as he had for the past hour; his back to the door of the black man's office. Head of air and space engagements and advancement, Jordan displayed all of the qualities he had inherited from his father and then some. A brilliant tactician and resilient and tenacious fighter, he earned his reputation and command of the UNSB air forces quickly.

Jordan had his back to the Spartan. He was wearing a formal black suit, but a Sweet William Cigar was clutched in one hand, a lazy trail of smoke drifting upwards. Strictly against regulations for this ship.

The Naval Captain turned around to face Alex, and returned the cigar to his mouth; clenching it between his teeth. He puffed out once, and slowly pulled it away.

"We have enough problems to worry about right at the moment, Spartan. When this is over, I will investigate. But right now, all I can do is say that you need to get into your armor. You're going to be at the memorial, as well as the signing of the treaty. This is a big step, and we need big names. The Sangheili are the only allies we have right now, and they are our best hope of survival."

"Yes sir."

They stood in silence for awhile; Jordan looking over Alex with a frown. Finally, Sergeant Major Avery Junior Johnson's son dismissed the Spartan.


End file.
